


Why Was I Hoping?

by dustorange



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Grayson (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: DC Comics Rebirth, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, F/M, Marriage Proposal, dickhelena really do be That Ship™️, they’re!!!!!!! in!!!!!! love!!!!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 09:25:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16238792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustorange/pseuds/dustorange
Summary: Dick has been carrying around his parents’ wedding rings around for two months now, waiting for the right time.But, for some reason, ‘the right time’ keeps not happening.





	Why Was I Hoping?

**Author's Note:**

> listen if i have to carry the whole dickhelena ship on my own then guess what!!!! i will!!!!

Dick has been carrying around his parents’ wedding rings around for two months now, waiting for the right time.

But, for some reason, ‘the right time’ keeps not happening.

It’s sort of awful.

He gets so, _so_ close — last week, he was stitching up Helena’s left arm, and he was even already on his knees, and he was so _ready_ to say it, and he started to say, “Helena,” but then he literally passed put from blood loss from a wound he didn’t know he had.

And the week before that, they’d been at Blüdhaven’s best (only?) gelato place, which was Helena’s favorite because it carried her super weird preferred flavor, Stracciatella. It also had Dick’s favorite flavor, Blue Moon, which tasted like marshmallows and fruity pebbles and also religion, probably.

It had been an incredible, super beautiful day, simply because it was totally normal. They got to act like regular twenty-somethings for a change.

“Hel, come on, just try it,” he’d laughed, and she’d literally blown a raspberry at him, which was so out of character but so adorable that he literally _dropped_ his whole ice cream cone. Onto the ground. The dirty Blüdhaven ground. Not even Dick could rationalize eating that. Blüdhaven was a special sort of nasty. He’d gaped at it, and then at Helena. “ _Helena_.”

She’d smirked. “It serves you right.” Dick continued staring at her pointedly. “What?”

Dick kept staring at her in disbelief. Blinking a few times for good measure.

“What?”

“You’re not even sorry,” he’d said, purposefully pitching his voice into a whine.

“No, because it was _your_ fault; you dropped it.”

“I’m, like, ninety percent sure that it was your fault completely. No. You know what. I’m one-hundred percent sure.”

“This is why you should have gotten a bowl instead.” Helena told him. She rolled her eyes and licked her spoon, shoving her bowl toward him. “Here. We can share.”

And then there was a really poetic gust of wind that tousled all her hair like an angel and Dick’s thought: _I’m going to do it. I’m going to propose._

“Helena,” he said seriously. “You are the love of my life, and you’re my partner, in, like, everything, and I would literally die for you with zero hesitation,” but then Helena covered her mouth and snorted at him, and then he realized that she probably thought he was just being dramatic because of the whole ice cream sharing thing and probably wouldn’t take him seriously if he proposed right now. So he didn’t. But he _almost_ did.

And then the week before _that_ , he’d arranged for this whole romantic dinner and everything, but then Bruce called him because the Joker broke out yet again and had unleashed such a truly enormous amount of deadly Joker Venom across Gotham that Bruce was actually asking nicely for Dick to come help. Which, like, never happened. Ever. It was always, _Nightwing, get here. Now_. Or maybe an urgent call from Alfred. But Bruce never asked. So he basically _had_ to go. He _had_ to.

So he’s been carrying around the rings for two months, trying to figure out the perfect moment.

The rings are his parents’, and used to belong to his dad’s parents before that. The bands are thick subtle and dark gold and the stone is something lovely and black. His parents hadn’t worn them very much, because they sort of made trapeze a lot harder, and Dick and Helena probably wouldn’t wear them very often either, but it’s a nice thought. A really nice thought. Hopefully. Hopefully. Hopefully. Dick really, really, _really_ hopes so.

He’s been a little more anxious than usual lately, to the point that Helena actually thought he wasn’t talking his meds. He was, but that’s sort of cancelled out by having two priceless family heirlooms in his pocket at all times. He said a ‘little’ anxious. That was a lie. He’s a ball of stress. A very flexible ball of stress with high cheekbones, but a _ball of stress_ nonetheless.

He wakes up in the middle of the night — which, for them, is 8 AM — and he’s sort of upset, because that means he’s only gotten four hours of sleep, and it’s Sunday, and Sunday is designated as Dick’s Sleeping Time. It is, as you would probably suspect, the time when Dick sleeps. It’s great. It’s what enables him to go six days without sleep every week. Sunday is his favorite day of the week, by far. Except for maybe Thursdays. He really fucking loves Thursdays.

But now he’s awake. Super awake. The sort of awake where you jolt up straight in bed. The sort of awake where you look at your romantic partner and think, _This is it. I’m proposing. For real this time. For real._

And he doesn’t give himself time to doubt himself. The sun is shining and the time is right.

He scrambles out of bed and snatches the rings out of the secret pocket in his favorite denim jacket before leaping back into bed.

“Hel,” he says. “ _Hel_.”

“What,” says Helena, face muffled into her pillow, literally not moving whatsoever.

“Hel,” he says again.

“ _What_ ,” she asks, rolling over, squinting at him. The sun is in her eyes.

He smiles at her, feeling super soft, feeling super in love, feeling an absolutely insane amount of butterflies in his stomach.

But he’s going to say it. He _going_ to do it this time.

He says: “Will you—”

“Yes,” Helena says, and puts out her hand for him to put the ring on. He does, and she kisses him, and then she goes back to sleep.

And Dick does too. He goes to sleep too. Because everything feels right in the world, for once, and everything feels warm and good and in love, like him, and now there’s a ring on his finger and a ring on her finger and he’s so _excited_. But mostly, he goes to sleep because it’s Sunday.

 

 


End file.
